The consulting detective and the artist
by TiffaniLouise
Summary: Sherlock has met someone who matches him intellectually, a woman who uses art as her outlet. The consulting detective starts dating the artist not sure where things are going to end up, she even helps out on a case . A case that takes a dangerous turn.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock paced the living room in his normal attire, black trousers and blazer with his very tight purple top. He was trying to impress someone, that was for sure. John was staring at him, the book in his hand limp against his leg. Who could Sherlock be trying to impress? And why was he pacing the flat? He only did that when he was bored, but right now he seemed nervous.

"Shut up" the consulting detective snapped. John raised an eyebrow in a question manner, like he did every time Sherlock just told him to shut up when he wasn't even talking or making any noise, except for breathing. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Do you have to think so loudly?" He questioned.

John shrugged. "Considering I was thinking and not speaking, I have no control over the volume."

Sherlock just sighed loudly in response. "Why don't you just ask? I know your dying to"

"Ok" John snapped the forgotten book in his hands shut and looked up at his flat ate. "Why are you pacing the flat? I would say its because your bored but we only just finished the case, other than that it would be nerves. But you don't get nervous."

"Good deductions John" Sherlock said sarcastically.

"And your wearing that purple shirt" he pointed at the dark purple material that starched over Sherlock's skin.

"That?" Sherlock questioned his word choice.

"Yes 'that' as in 'that' tight purple, your going to be putty in my hands shirt. The one you wear because you know it makes you look good." John explained.

"Very good John" Sherlock smiled. His eyes slightly narrowed. A fake Sherlock smile.

"Really?" John dared.

"Yes" Sherlock said sincerely, adding "if your a ten year old girl."

"Brilliant" John commented. "Are you going to tell me then, since my deductions are nowhere near the standard of yours." He batted his eyelashes slightly, to enhance the effects of the compliment.

"Date" Sherlock breathed, emphasising the 't'.

John frowned. Sherlock had never been one for dating. He had specifically pointed out that he was 'married to his work' when John asked him.

"A date" John repeated with a tone of uncertainty.

Sherlock nodded.

"A date?" He repeated again.

"Yes John, a date. What exactly are you struggling to comprehend?" The detective questioned in his usual abrupt manner.

John took a breath, he decided to chance it. "Well you've never dated, well not since I've met you. You specifically said that you're 'married to you work'." He mimicked Sherlock.

Sherlock paused in the middle of the room, his eyes focused on a random spot above Johns head somewhere. "Well, things change."

"So who is she?" John asked. "Or he?" He added quickly, remembering their first conversation on the matter.

"She" he emphasised "is a photographer and artist, we met on a case a few weeks ago. I saw her the other day, we had coffee, I asked her out for dinner."

"What case was this?" John questioned, not able to remember a single case that involved a photographer.

"The death of a wealthy patron at a charity event, you were away at the time. Evelyn was the photographer that night, she aided us by giving us full access to all of her photos from the night, with her help we could piece together things visually. Successfully catching the man responsible."

"And she caught your attention that much, that you have asked her to dinner?"

"Yes John do keep up" Sherlock snapped.

"And what's special about her?"

"Special? Why would she be special?" Sherlock questioned. His colour changing eyes fixed on John.

"It's just that you don't date, you've never been interested in women before, but your about to go on a date. There just must be something special about her." He explained.

"She matches me intellectually" he stated. "But she chooses to instead be an artist instead of a doctor or physicist, that makes her special. Her art is her outlet, and it's beautiful John. That is why she is special."

John opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. As much as he wanted to know everything about this girl, it would have to wait. He would wait until Sherlock wanted to talk about her or wanted to introduce them.

Sherlock arrived at the restaurant at exactly 7:30pm, the time that they had arranged. Angelo seated him at his usual table, next to the window so he could (if he was on a case) watch his surroundings easily. Sherlock had chosen Angelo's specifically for the familiar surroundings which helped with his nerves. As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. Sherlock Holmes was nervous.

Sherlock didn't notice Evelyn as she walked into Angelo's, a light pink grin on her face. She thought it was amazing how he could lose himself in thought. "Sherlock" she hummed, successfully pulling him out of his thoughts. His head snapped round, his blue/grey/green eyes looking at her, seeing everything.

Evelyn was in a black and white print tribal dress with sleeves rolled to her elbows. The material stopped just below her knees and was accessorised with a pink triangle necklace. She had on a leather jacket and some black heeled boots with white socks. Her chestnut hair falling in natural waves around her face, green eyes sparkling.

"Evelyn" he announced, standing up and gesturing to the window seat. She raised she eyebrow at him and he corrected himself "Eve".

That's what she preferred to be called. She slid effortlessly into the bench that backed onto the window, pulling off her jacket and pacing it with her small black handbag.

"This place is nice" she observed, in her usual calm way. Her eyes darting around the restaurant before settling back on the consulting detective. "Nice shirt" she added.

Sherlock glanced at his shirt. "You look good...nice" he managed.

Eve giggled. "Thank you Sherlock, now what can you recommend?" She raised her eyebrows, the menu in her hand.

Half an hour later, they were sat with their meals in front of them, a pasta dish for her, a steak for him. They had successfully covered a lot of her life in that time, even her reasons for becoming a photographer, while practicing art on the side. Sherlock was explaining why he chose to be a consulting detective instead of a physicist or some thing while they ate. He then deduced the other people in the restaurant.

"That's amazing" she breathed. "You just see everything, it's fantastic." She twirled some past onto her fork before placing it inn her mouth.

"That's not what people usually say" Sherlock commented. He had eaten a fair share of his meal, mostly leaving the asparagus.

"What do they usually say?" She asked after she swallowed her mouthful.

"Piss off" they both laughed at that.

They sat in a blissful silence. Him watching as she ate her foot. Eve placed her cutlery on the plate, pushed the plate out of her way and lent forward onto the table, her green eyes focused on Sherlock.

"Will you deduce me?" She asked innocently. Sherlock pursed his lips, thinking about it. Eve urged "You've seen it all already, the only difference is that you'd be telling me what you see. I'd promise not to get angry, I'm guessing that happens a lot."

"More than you'd think" he smiled at her. He took a breath, allowing his eyes to linger on her. "You were painting before you came out, even after your shower, so whatever you were painting is important. Like the enter piece of the exhibition your setting up. The one that your having placed in an old building that has character in Waterloo. You put some effort into your appearance, that much is obvious, fresh coat of nail varnish, lipstick. But you don't focus on your appearance, it isn't important to you because as an artist your a believer of the beauty within. Your also scared of something or someone, you keep glancing behind, looking around. You caught sight of a man in the mirror earlier and tensed up, your hands knotted under the table, you were scared then, of someone specific. An ex perhaps."

"You're good" she said immediately. She lent forward, so she could whisper. "And right actually about everything, except he isn't an ex." She paused, pursing her lips. "I didn't want to say anything because this is our first date but I trust you." Her eyes settled on his. "My older sister, Vicki was a very troubled girl. She got involved with the wrong people, got hooked on drugs. She saw something that she wasn't supposed to and the guy she was dating, he was in charge of this whole drugs operation killed her. A few months later I went undercover for the police to get proof so I could testify. I got some information on him before i was found out, I barely made it out with my life. I've been in witness protection since. But everything I've told you is the truth, except my last name is Stark and not Clare."

Silence fell between them. Sherlock was still staring at her, his grey eyes hot on her. After a few minutes had passed he opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again. He took another minutes before speaking gently. "What happens if they find you?" He asked.

"They kill me" she answered, there was no point softening the blow.

"And the information you got wasn't enough to out them in prison" he stated.

"No" she confirmed "they would have needed me to testify, but that's just asking for them to kill me."

Eve didn't know what to expect, she hadn't told many people about this, she never got the chance. She really didn't expect him to lean forward until his lips pushed gently against hers. Eve was stunned, she didn't know what to do. She had never expected Sherlock to kiss her. She kissed him back, moving her mouth slowly against his. The kiss was gentle and caring, his hand went instinctively to cup her cheek. The hand on her cheek was warm, his lips were inviting.

They both pulled back when they needed air, foreheads rested against each other, eyes locked. "Was that ok?" Sherlock asked nervously.

Eve couldn't be sure to what exactly he was referring. "If your talking about the fact that you kissed me, then yes and if your asking if the kiss was ok, it was more than that." She answered truthfully. "Was it good for you?" She asked.

Sherlock's mouth twitched before turning into a smile. "Yes" was all he could manage.

Eve leaned forward giving Sherlock a chaste kiss before pulling back slightly. Sherlock's hand dropped from her cheek onto the table, she placed her hand on top of his.

A waiter picked up their plates from the table and Angelo came over. They both kept their eyes firmly on each other. "Dessert?" He asked, hopefully. Sherlock didn't often have dinner, let alone dessert.

"Do I want dessert?" She asked Sherlock, curving one eyebrow slightly.

Sherlock pursed his lips, his grey eyes on hers.

He was considering it. He opened his mouth to say something when the phone in his pocket started vibrating loudly, playing a simple ringtone. His head dropped slightly, she nodded for him to answer the phone. She kept her hand on his, tracing small circles on his knuckles as he used the other hand to grab his phone. "No desserts tonight Angelo" she said calmly. "Next time" she suggested. Angelo smiled before walking away.

She turned back to Sherlock, watching him intensively, her fingers still tracing circles on his knuckles.

"I'm busy" Sherlock was insisting to whoever was on the phone, she guessed it was Lestrade with a case. "Yes, that's what I said...I'm busy...I'm not at Baker Street, I'm out...I can't-"

She interjected "Yes you can."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her slightly. "Hold on Leatrade" he moved the phone away from his ear, his eyes still on her. This time addressing her. "But we're on a date" he said with genuine confusion.

She smiled. "Yes, and we'd still be on a date no matter where we were. So why don't we just go and take a look at the crime scene, you can do you genius thing and then we continue the date."

Sherlock was very confused. He brought the phone back to his ear and spoke, eyes still on her. "I'm on my way, call John and ask him to meet us there." He hung up the phone quickly and placed it back in his jacket. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Eve grinned, pulling her jacket on. "Why on earth would I mind? This is what you do Sherlock, it's who your are." She stood up while he pulled on his coat, then fastened his scarf around his neck. She added quickly "Plus, i love to see you in action, it's all smart and sexy."

They left without paying, the bill was taken care of by Angelo, like it always was for Sherlock. They walked hand in hand down towards the crime scene, it wasn't far away from their location so a cab was pointless. Sherlock also saw it as an opportunity to be closer to her, the cold air meant that she would cuddle up to him more than she would in a heated cab. He was right, within minutes she was pushed against his side, their combined hands awkwardly between them. To solve this he twisted her around quickly, so that his arm now rested on her shoulder and their hands were connected still. She smiled and lent into his body as they walked. "Genius" she commented, laughing as they walked.


	2. Chapter 2

"Freak" Sally Donovan greeted as he approached the crime scene with Eve tucked into his side for warmth. "Got yourself another friend?" She mocked.

"Date" Eve corrected.

"Sally" Sherlock said with a very fake smile on his face.

"How did you get yourself a date?" She asked.

"He asked" Eve answered honestly. "Like any other person."

"And you brought her to a crime scene?"

"I respectfully declined" Sherlock pointed out, ducking under the crime scene tape then holding it up for Eve to step under. Eve stepped under obediently.

"But where would Scotland Yard be without there consulting detective, I insisted that he come." Eve finished for him. Sherlock didn't hold back the grin as he linked his hand back with Eve's and lead her towards the crime scene.

Three men were stood, lent against the wall of the house. One had slicked and rather greasy black hair in a middle parting. The second was grey with brown eyes but only late forties and the other a blonde man in a brown jacket.

"Sherlock" the grey haired man announced. "I'm glad you decided to come, this ones defiantly up your street."

Sherlock sighed. "Well you can thank Eve, she was the one that I insisted that I come." He gestured to her with their linked hands.

"I merely pointed out that this is what you do and that our date would continue wherever we were." She clarified, smiling at them. "Evelyn Clare, but I prefer Eve" she introduced herself.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow ever so slightly at her surname. "This is Detective Inspector Lestrade" he gestured to the greying man. "John" he gestured to the friendly looking blonde.

"Yes, I've heard a few things about you" she added.

"And this is Anderson" he said in a tone of disgust gesturing towards the greasy dark haired man.

"The most incompetent member of Scotland Yard with a talent for lowering the IQ of others" she recited from what he had already told her. "Yes, I've heard a few things about you too, not nearly as interesting as you John" she looked at Sherlocks best friend "Sherlock really admires you."

"It's nice to meet you" John said with a smile.

"You too" she smiled. She then turned to look at Sherlock "Shall we?" She asked him

Sherlock nodded, walking into the house. He pulled her by their linked hand towards a table set up with the forensic overalls. He gestured to the overalls, she raised and eyebrow at him. "You have got to be kidding?"

"No" he stated simply, picking up one of the light blue scrub like overalls and handing it to her. She put her bag and jacket on the table and let him help her into the horrible overalls.

"You know some things are better left to the imagination and this is one of them" she complained. She hitched her dress up so that her legs would fit into the leg holes properly, zipped herself up and turned to look at Sherlock. He was still in his clothes and was not in the hideous overalls. "Where are your ugly overalls?" She asked, pointing at him.

Sherlock smirked. "Don't need them." He announced as he climbed the stairs.

"Ohh" she shook her head and followed him. "That is not fair, I'm going to get you back for that."

"I'd like to see you try" Sherlock challenged.

Eve let out a breath when she saw the crime scene. The room was dark, windows covered by large old fashioned curtains. The room was scattered with candles (that were unlit) and looked steps away from an old fashioned horror movie. In the enter of a large four poster wooden bed was a young woman. She was lain out on her back, arms outstretched and held down by manacles. The woman had blonde, close to white hair that was flowing across the pillows, her blue eyes wide and very professional make up on. She was dressed in a light blue dress, her legs visible through a slit in the material. Both wrists were slit, the blood pooled across the mattes and on the floor.

Sherlock was already darting around the room, gathering all the information that he could.

"Jesus" John breathed as he came in behind her, in matching ugly overalls. Lestrade was behind him, looking at ten scene with some disgust.

"Found anything yet?" Greg asked Sherlock.

Sherlock started talking them through his findings. Eve zoned out, focusing purely on the figure in the bed. The woman was very beautiful and dressed purposely. It was very doubtful that she would be wearing a dress like this, the dress was new. Brand new, brought specifically for her by the man responsible. The pose the woman was in was also unusual, it would have made much more sense to restrain her arms above her head instead at the sides of the bed. It was like she was a live model for someone, that was it, she was unwillingly someone's live model.

"He was painting her" she mumbled under her breath, not even aware that she had spoken allowed.

"What?" Anderson snapped.

Eve turned to face the now group of people by the door, who were all staring at her. Sherlocks stare was by far the friendliest. "Look at the position of the body" she gestured. "Really look, she's in the perfect position, right in the centre of the bed. Her hair is flowing over the pillows, it was meant to be like that, her eyes open. He dressed her and put make up on her, he had a vision, which means a purpose for positioning the body like this. What purpose could someone have for setting up a scene like this" she gestured to the candles "well a photographer would have reason but he couldn't be photographing the bodies because its too suspicious, someone would know the moment the photos surfaced. So he's not photographing them. Instead he's painting them."

"You think he's painting the scene?" Lestrade asked.

Eve nodded. "Painting is more intimate, it means he can put himself into the work without being part of it physically." She then moved to a position directly in the centre of the bed. "From here you can see everything, if I was painting it I would stand here."

"Do we have any proof that he was painting it?" Anderson snapped.

Eve simply pointed at the floor. "Marks from an easel, three legged easel, so compactable, three...no four splodges of paint, various colours and small, almost unnoticeable."

Lestrade simply turned to Sherlock. "Do you agree?"

"Yes" Sherlock gave a small smile in Eve's direction. "Your looking for an artist, most likely he is unrecognised. Shall we?" He looked at Eve.

Sherlock lead her out of the room. Lestrade called after them "wait is that it?"

Sherlock sighed. "Yes Detective Inspector, if your'll excuse me I was on a date."

Eve was pulling on her jacket as she exited the building with a smile on her face. They could get back to their date now.

"What do you want to do now?" She asked Sherlock.

The consulting detective flicked the collar of his coat up as a Sheila against the wind. He pursed his lips tightly. This was his first date, what did he know bout what came next. They had already been out for dinner. They could always just go somewhere for a drink, he had a nice bottle of wine at home in the fridge. "A drink?" He asked.

Eve nodded. "Where?"

"At my flat" he suggested.

Eve cocked her head slightly before nodding with a very amused grin on her face. They walked towards the main road in search of a cab. The grin still plastered on her face. Sherlock stopped in front of her, so he was staring at her.

"Why are you grinning like that?" He asked. His eyes shaking slightly in concentration.

"Your just so..." She paused searching for the correct word. "Naive" she settled on.

"Naive" the consulting detective repeated with raised eyebrow.

"You asked me to come back to your flat to have a drink with you" she said. It was obvious that he didn't understand, so she just explained. "It's like the oldest pickup line in the book, but you really just invited me back for a drink and its just sweet."

"Oh" Sherlock mumbled. That's when it hit him. It sounded as if he was luring her back to is flat for sex. "Ohhh" he said again in realisation.

Eve's eyes widened slightly. "I know that's not what you meant but it was just really funny the way you didn't even realise."

Sherlock felt his cheeks reddening and ducked his head down. Eve caught his face before it could fall any further, her hands cupping his cheeks. She pulled his face up slightly so that he could look at her and moved her face closer to his.

She whispered. "Whatever your thinking, stop, just stop it. I agreed to come back with you for drink and I am. That doesn't mean we have to rush into things, but that also means that he don't have to not rush into things."

She kissed him gently. He kissed her back with no resistance, their lips moving calmly against each other. His arms snaked around her waist as they kissed.

Sherlock had never imagined himself kissing someone,me specially publicly. He didn't understand the need for public acts of affection but right now, in this moment, he wouldn't change anything. Eve was smart and attractive, she was practically perfect and she wanted him. And he wanted her, more than he would care to admit. They just fit together, understanding each other, knowing how the other worked. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to stand in the middle of the street kissing her for the rest of the night.

Sherlock pulled away when he felt the need for oxygen, he replaced his lips as soon as he was satisfied that he had taken a large enough breath (and that Eve had as well). He was rougher than he had been at first, the kiss hungrier. He wanted to taste her, wanted to expand one what they had already done. Eve was willing, pushing her lips against his just as roughly, but not roughly enough for them to be fighting over dominance. Her hands moved instinctively from his cheeks to around his neck.

Sherlock was a good kisser, he was inexperienced (not that she and a lot of experience herself) but he was learning quickly and was in total control. His tongue brushed across her lip and she parted her mouth, partly in shock and partly because she wanted to taste him completely. His tongue pushed into her mouth, she responded by twisting her tongue around his.

Sherlock tasted like nicotine and mint. He smelled like vanilla and Sherlock, he was perfect. He senses were tingling as their tongues danced together.

He was surprised to find that she tasted sweet. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly but there was defiantly a sweet taste. Like sweets or a sugary fruit with undertones of mint from brushing her teeth.

Eve pulled away first for a breath. "So your place?" She asked, raising her eyebrow. She gave him a chaste kiss, a wide smile on her face.


End file.
